


A Darker Motivation

by Plasmid



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Angst, Canon - Book, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 22:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9144505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plasmid/pseuds/Plasmid
Summary: It's not okay. It's sick and twisted. And maybe he doesn't care.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ***You probably shouldn't bother starting this until chapter 2 is up. That one will be mostly angsting about forbidden love. I'm not great at keeping focus so feel free to take any of my plot points and turn them into an actual story. I will not be needing them. First fic so I'm expecting the posting of it to be screwed up at least once. Have patience with me I'm writing this on a phone. Now I'm gonna get the plot out of the way so we can have some fun. ***

Jon was seriously wounded at the wall but not killed. In the aftermath the loyalist brothers and wildlings killed the traitors and named Jon King on the Wall (a title that he would have more strenuously objected to had he not been laid up with fever). About a month after the assasination attempt the Others attacked in force. The tunnel beneath Castle Black had not been fully frozen and several wights broke through along with an Other on a large white ice spider. Feverish but determined Jon stumbled from his chambers to join the frey. Pulling a sword from the back of a burning wight he proceded to dispatch the Other and its horror of a mount. Then, maddened by the fever, he set out past the wall to take on the rest of the army of the undead. His loyal and slightly insane subjects followed and forced a retreat. The Others, likely recognising the burning glowing sword Jon bore, have temporarily retreated to build up their army.

It is now five years later and Arya has completed her training. Released by the Faceless Men to act as a hidden servant of the Many Faced God she is now free to be Arya Stark until the God should have need of her. (someone else can write that story though, this is just because I'm sick of the FM getting a bad rap in other fics). Arya takes a ship to Oldtown and joins with a black brother and Maester named Samwell who is journeying to the wall. She is curious about the rumours that Lord Wyman Manderly has recently reclaimed Winterfell in her brother Rickon's name. Rickon, who if rumours can be believed rides wild unicorns alongside his direwolf and leads a tribe of viscious cannibals despite not yet being a man-grown. She had to admit that it sounded like something her baby brother would do. 

Once confirming that her little brother was truly there and truly safe surrounded by the rough wild men he called tribe and the loyal vassals who seemed to both revere and fear him she proceded to Castle Black and the brother who had known her so long ago.

__Chapter two will be completely different than this.__


	2. 2

"My lord there are visitors at the gate" Satin said from the chamber doorway. "Sam Tarly, er.. Maester Samwell is among them."

"Sam?" Jon Snow leapt to his feet with an excited smile and rushed to the courtyard to greet his old friend. Sam had just finished dismounting and smiled a weary smile at Jon before being embraced by him.

"Gilly and the babe?" he asked looking at the odd collection of travellers who had come with Sam.

"Safe, at Horn Hill with my mother. Aemon is hardly a babe now though. He is learning to fight with a sword and is already beating boys two and three years older than him!" there was a touch of fatherly pride in Sam's voice and Jon started to reply that he'd never thought to hear his friend excited by martial prowess, when he froze.

Amongst the travellers was a woman. Slender and wearing trousers and a small sword, her upper torso shrouded in a dark grey cloak he might have mistaken her for a boy but one look at her face, framed with wisps of dark hair that had come loose from their tie dispelled that notion. Her ivory skin had a smudge of dirt along the left cheek where the cold had added a flush of rose colour to her face. Her lips were a matching rose colour and were fuller than he recalled. And her eyes were a soft grey framed with dark lashes, the eyes of his little sister.

"Arya." he breathed. 

"Who?" asked Sam turning to look. But Jon was already striding towards the sister he had thought lost to him. He swept her up into his arms and she buried her head against his chest returning the hug. "Jon." she said and it was enough. The years fell away and they were children again, safe and warm in Winterfell untouched by war or death.

 

******


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm writing this on my phone while dying of the flu in bed I'm going to have a lot of short chapters so I can save and nap frequently.

They stayed up into the small hours of the night. Neither wanting to be parted from the other after so many years with no word. He told her of the watch and the wildlings, of Ygritte and Mance and fighting the dead things that brought the cold. She in turn told him of Braavos, the happy port and the isle of gods and seeing the courtesans on their barges. He suspected there was more to the story of the kindly old priest and the waif who took her in to act as a servant to the House of Black and White but he decided not to push her on it. Likely she was holding back out of sorrow for having left another home.

 

They fell asleep before the fire that night with hands clasped tightly. Jon woke several times and then lay his head back down to rest again once he saw she was still there and not merely a dream.

********

 

Weeks passed and Arya had taken up training with the younger boys and girls. Teaching them how to use their opponent's weight against them and how to sneak under a man's guard. It was while watching her demonstrate an escape move against Grenn in the yard one day, and the laughter of them both when she pinned the great auroch of a man with her dagger to his throat, that the first wave of jealousy hit him.  _Mine_ a voice inside him called, though he pretended he couldn't hear it.

********

 

Jon occasionally sparred with Arya in the yard too. At swordplay they were evenly matched, his reach was greater and he was strong and agile but she was quicker and flowed like water around him. The men cheered when she managed to disarm their Lord Commander and knock him off his feet.  And when he managed the same she'd curse like a sailor, making the men roar with laughter. Afterwards he mussed her hair and called her little sister and pretended it was the exercise that had caused his breathing to speed up and not the nearness of her body.

 

*******

 

"You need to learn to fight without weapons." Arya announced one day "you might have had me today if you'd gone for me instead of chasing after your sword like a dog after a stick." 

"I don't see how that could be seeing as you still had your weapon and could have just run me through" Jon replied, setting down the ledgers he was going over.

"I was foolish and struck too hard when I disarmed you. With my arm numb you could have taken my weapon easily. At such close quarters your size gives you the advantage. Let me teach you." 

"Little sister, I can fight you with a sword in the yard because the men understand that weapons are an equaliser.  However morale might suffer if they watched their Lord Commander get pummelled by an unarmed girl half his size."

"Then I'll teach you in private. There's plenty of room in here if we move that bench." She stated and proceeded to lift the bench in question.


	4. 4

"Ooph" Jon exclaimed as he landed on his back for the third time that day. His little sister sat on his stomach and smiled down at him like a cat.

"And how did I beat you? "

 

"By being some sort of demon that can vanish before I can grab you." Jon said as he lay his head back on the floor and closed his eyes. When he got no response he opened his eyes and looked up at Arya. She was biting her bottom lip and looking vulnerable.

"Would it bother you if I was a demon?" she asked in a quiet voice. "I've never been a proper lady like Mother or Sansa and I've killed people you know."

"Did they deserve it?"

"Some did. Some needed the gift to free them from pain. Others death's were paid for."

Jon rolled her under him and looked into her clear grey eyes. "Then you're not a demon" he said seriously "demons kill for no reason or because they enjoy it." after a pause he said "but even if you were a demon you'd still be my little sister. I would want you anyway."

He was rewarded with a brilliant smile as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. The heat of her body pressed against him and her legs twined around him made his blood flame. _Would you still want me little sister if you knew what kind of demon I am?_


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you don't like smut then stop reading now. I said I was going to try and make this dark and twisty. I've decided to make it kinda fucked up too.

Jon woke with a shout with the wisps of his dream still tangled in his mind. He remembered tangled limbs and heated whispers and a moan of pleasure from the grey eyed girl beneath him. Then something dark and cold with flashing eyes and blood splattering its face. Still aroused but utterly disturbed he reached for the jug of wine left by his bed and poured a cup. Drinking it before bed had done little to clear his mind of the dark thoughts he'd been trying to suppress but drinking the well fortified but awful tasting stuff would perhaps distract him from the more disturbing aspect of the dream.  _And are you so far gone now that the most disturbing part of the dream was the monster and not the thought of fucking your sister?_ A voice inside him asked. But even as he berated himself he remembered the imagined tightness of her around him and felt his cock jump.  _She's only sleeping right next door.._ a very different voice in him whispered.

A knock sounded quietly on the door and Arya stepped inside. "Jon?" she called "I heard you shout" pocketing the key he'd given her in the short white nightshirt she wore Arya padded softly to his bedside.  Suddenly the cups of wine he'd drunk seemed like they'd been a very bad idea.  _She's your sister, your little sister who you used to build snow castles with and who'd run to you when she scraped her knees._ but she was also a woman with tangled black hair, flushed cheeks and smooth white thighs showing under the too short nightshirt.

"Jon?" Arya said again, looking down at him with concern, utterly innocent of his thoughts.  

He cleared his throat and tried to smile reassuringly. "Just a dream" he said. "Nothing to worry about" 

She sat down sideways on his lap and hugged him. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

It was too much. Jon knew what he should say. "No, stay away, the dream is gone but there's still a monster in this room" but he couldn't make the words come. Instead to his horror what popped out when he opened his mouth was "Are you a maiden Arya?"

The blush on her cheeks grew darker and she looked down shyly "Yes, of course"

"Of course?" 

"Some men have tried but they backed off once they saw I knew how to use my blade."

"And there were no men who tried that you didn't want to stab?"

"Not that I got close enough to.  I wasn't interested in that sort of thing anyways. You know Sansa was always the one who dreamt of singers and knights in shining armour. I'd rather be the knight" she squirmed a bit on his lap to get comfortable and lay his hand on her thigh just above the knee. His desire was getting difficult to restrain. 

"It's not just singing and jousts I'm talking about Arya" he said in a husky voice. His fingers began trailing up her inner thigh and he pulled her closer so she could feel the hard bulge beneath his pants against her leg eliciting a small gasp. "It can feel good. I can show you if you'd like" he began to untie her smallclothes and slid them to the floor. When he touched the small nub and heard her gasp he knew he had her assent. 

Laying her back on his bed he kissed her on the corner of the mouth. Now was not the time to scare off his prey with too bold movements. His hands pushed her nightshirt up to reveal a flat expanse of stomach and then trailed down softly teasing over her thighs until finally stopping between them again. With one finger he circled her nub again pleased to find that she was now slick and wet. He slipped the finger inside of her and nearly went mad at the combination of her tight wetness and the small moan that escaped Arya's lips. After a minute he slipped another finger inside, stretching her and pulling forth another moan. "Jon" she said in a breathless voice and he looked into her eyes "shh" he told her, sliding her shirt up a little more so he could see her hard pink nipples and pushing his fingers deeper inside her while crooking the ends back towards him. Arya's eyes unfocused and he added his thumb to the mix, making slow circles around her clit as his other fingers continued to stroke her. "Be a good girl and relax."

Jon watched avidly as his sweet little sister squirmed in pleasure under his ministrations, memorising every sound she made and every expression on her face. He didn't care that he was going to hell he just wanted to watch her come before he went. And when she finally did begin to arch her back and he felt her walls tighten around his fingers he thought about watching while she rode him and almost came himself. 

Afterwards Arya fell asleep quickly and Jon carried her back to her room before returning to his own.  He drank the remainder of his wine and unlaced his breeches. Thinking about Arya's full rose mouth open in the shape of an O he decided he could wait until morning to feel ashamed of what he'd done to his innocent little sister.


	6. Chapter 6

_Arya_

 

Arya woke alone in her bed.  _Was it just a dream?_ She felt her body flush at her memories of the night before, embarrassment and desire fought for precedence in her sleep muddled mind.  _He saw me naked, touched me.._ She remembered his eyes, like burning coals along her body and the feeling of pride as his hard manhood had pressed at her. Then another thought crashed like cold water down on her.  _He's my brother._ Half brother to be sure, but hadn't she always been the one to insist that they were true siblings and fight with Sansa when she emphasized the  _half?_ A breath of shame swept over her now and she dressed quickly, determined to put these troublesome thoughts out of her mind.

 

Jon had just sat down to break his fast when she entered the dining hall.  His greeting was as cordial as ever as she took her seat next to him on the dais, but she noticed he didn't quite meet her eyes. Samwell Tarly who had joined them frowned slightly at the air of forced cheeriness coming from his companions but didn't ask questions and soon enough his genuine good nature warmed the conversation so that it would have taken a faceless man to even realise aught was amiss.

 

 Arya felt calmed as they separated to go about their daily tasks. Pretending was something she knew, she could be Jon Snow's sweet little sister. The girl who liked to scrap with the boys and show the men she was just as tough as they but who secretly needed her big brother to tousle her hair and call her pretty.  _It's not even really pretending,_ she realised,  _I am that girl, what happened last night may as well have just been a wolf dream._ All the same though she thought it might be about time to get herself a dress for evening meals and the like. She remembered the Kindly Man telling her about the trappings of power and station and how they could influence the people around her. Her brother was a King and she must show she could be a lady and help him with the lords and knights that needed marshalling in their preparations against the Others. She was definitely  _not_ thinking about Gendry and the flush of joy she'd felt when he had called her "a pretty tree".

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

_Jon_

 

Jon was in hell.  The meeting with the Flints and Norreys seemed to drag on forever. Discussions over provisioning had led to debates over woodclearing schedules, as if a 300 mile long stretch of woods could be transformed to firewood and kindling in a fort-night.  

 

Jon found his mind drifting, as it often did these days, to Arya.  After the slightest signs of awkwardness the morning after the..  _incident_ his little sister had acted as if nothing had ever happened. She was acting so normal in fact that Jon was even starting to wonder if it had. She laughed and fought as she always had and called him "stupid" when he suggested taking a break from their hand-to-hand training, bullheadedly continuing on with his instruction. Having decided it would be best to pretend that night had never happened he went along with it, ignoring the aching in his groin at night when he thought of how nearby she was and determinedly fending off her attempts to pin him during combat and even more determinedly not learning how to pin her. 

 

Then one night she had appeared at supper in a grey gown lined with soft white rabbit's fur and cut to flatter her lithe figure and show off a modest but enticing amount of chest.  The next night it was blue silk and the next green muslin.  Aside from his bewilderment at where Arya could possibly have found silk at The Wall and a dressmaker so well experienced, Jon had experienced a troubling realisation.  As much as he appreciated the tightness of breeches for showing off a woman's shapely legs he was a hundred times more intrigued by the way a dress pushed up small breasts and emphasized a slender waist. By the thought of those breasts straining against the fabric as a hand slid beneath skirts and met only easily circumvented smallclothes undernearth, or perhaps no smallclothes at all. And though he felt shame in the mornings he found more often than not his hand travelling beneath his bedclothes at night as he pictured his sister bent over a table as he fucked her willing or unwilling body.  

 

Donnel Flint interrupted his thoughts with a question about salt beef and Jon returned his focus to the matter at hand.   _Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to learn some of those holds Arya was so keen on teaching him. Just in case._


End file.
